The Ghost of Simon Crow
Bradley Michael Zerbe



Giants were known

throughout the land for being stupid. Unfortunately, a day came when I was even more stupid, and one of these lousy beasts took my life. As luck would have it, my ghost remained grounded for a short while, just long enough to take my revenge.

The great oaf that did me in lived on the edge of a cliff, in a structure wide and high. He was a mean brute, and as I climbed up the steep path, I grew angrier by the minute. All my brothers skewered and roasted alive, and no one from town would help me fight the monster. They would not even look my way. Either they could not see me, or they were too frightened to face the man-eating giant.

I knocked on the towering door, a smiling bear head nailed to its center. A giant spear rested beside it, no less than a good-sized tree by my standards. This weapon could split a human in two.

Footsteps thundered, and then the door cracked open. I flinched, as the white of a huge eye appeared high above.

“Who comes knocking on the door of Great Agnus?” The voice was deep and horrible, but I stood my ground.

“It is I, the ghost of Simon Crow, one of the men you killed last Tuesday.”

The eye swiveled down and found me.

“Oh, does ghost haunt me now?”

What a stupid giant. “No, I am a good ghost. You have won me for defeating Simon Crow the living.”

“I knows that, little ghosty. But what does you do?”

I looked over at the bloodstained spear and pictured the hole it could make in my spectral midsection. I had no idea what a good ghost did, but surely the oaf could not outsmart me a second time.

“I do housework. I cook and clean and other stuff.”

“But I no need to be cooked or cleaned or stuffed.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“Your house does, and your food does. Let me enter and I shall be at your service.”

The giant huffed. “Finish my sheep and bring it to me whiles I get ready,” the deep voice said.

Of course it was a sheep; the stupid animal probably fell into the giant’s spear.

“If you would but open the door and leave me—"

“Out back is the fire, little ghosty.”

The door closed.

The sheep had been preloaded on the spit. All I had to do was turn it and stoke the fire, easy enough. After the sucker was well done, I doused it with water and pulled it off. My mouth watered as I drug it by a hoof around the house.

I opened the door and peered in, but I could see nothing.

“Your food’s ready, the ghost of Simon Crow says,” I called in.

Water splashed, and then a voice rumbled “Well, bring it in, ghosty.”

I told myself to play it cool and wait for the right moment. Perhaps if Agnus let me carve…

My eyes adjusted to the light. The entire house was a single room. A table as wide as a bridge; huge chairs; flowers here and there in stone vases; the stench of a giant. This was my first time inside one of their dwellings, and I was nervous. I drug the smoldering sheep behind me across the floor, and then I noticed the oaf.

Sitting in a tub bigger than my bed was a massive hairy thing. My heart leapt for joy. What luck that he decided to bathe today; surely it only happened once a year.

“Bring meat while it still fires, little ghosty.”

I will bring my knife, too, I thought, hoping it was sharp enough to slice through the forest of hair lining his throat. I pulled the carcass, my knees a bit wobbly, my knife in my belt.

“Listen!”

I stopped, and heard—footsteps! Great big giant footsteps!

“Oh, no,” Agnus rumbled, “he’s early!”

He stood—water flew and dripped and I saw…what should not be—Agnus was a she!

A heavy knock on the door. I pictured the bear skull cracking against the wood, enveloped in a massive hand.

“Wait Brute, I not dressed!” Agnus shouted.

I looked down at the warm hoof in my hand and dropped it.

“What? Come in?” said a voice from outside.

“No, Brute!”

The door banged open and in came the biggest and meanest giant in the land. He saw me and stopped. His jaw opened, his face turned beet red, and then the tiny bouquet of flowers in his hand fell to the floor.

“I am but the ghost of Simon Crow,” I heard myself say. “I am dead and—

“Rumors!” he shouted and I cringed as the walls trembled. “All true! My wicked Agnus has a little man lover! And he even cooks for her!”

He started for me in a rage and the house shook. I turned and saw an open window and dove out—the cliff! I reached for the edge but my fingers slipped and I fell. I fell to make it look like I was real, not a ghost.

Down, down, down, I flapped my arms and screamed. Then I began to slow, and laugh.

High above, Agnus cried out in pain, and the giant sound raced down and blew past the ghost of Simon Crow.


       }
~~~~~ <~
       }